


Pushing Boundaries

by OTPSwanQueen



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 13:52:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15686727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OTPSwanQueen/pseuds/OTPSwanQueen
Summary: AU Emma and Regina are a newish thing. Regina pushes budding musician Emma to step it up. Oneshot. Emma’s POV*Sigh* What a dreamy relationship.





	Pushing Boundaries

We enter the bar, arms linked, and wait until we’re seated. She orders us a couple of drinks while I scope the place out. It’s nice... obviously popular. The smallish stage against the opposite wall is lit up and ready to be used. I look at her and she grins, her teeth perfect, and straight. She’s intensely beautiful in every light... so far, anyway. We’ve met up plenty of times, just like this, really, but this feels different somehow. I like how I never feel overdressed when I’m with her. Her style is impeccable. I find it difficult to imagine her in any undignified way.

“Do you remember,” she asks, sliding my drink to me, “what we spoke about on the phone last week? About facing fears... living up to your potential?”

My brow furrows as I try to remember what it is she might be getting at. I don’t want to tell her I don’t know, so I just think until she’s done waiting. Every conversation is a walk along a dangerous line, but it’s so fucking exciting, I can’t stay away. She sips her drink. “Pushing boundaries.” She prompts, looking at me over the rim of her glass, “Yours, specifically,”  
I nod and then tilt my head, suddenly realizing we aren’t here just because she wanted to bring me to a random bar for a drink... she can see the realization hit and it amuses her. I look toward the stage and finally notice the neon “Open Mic Night” sign hanging off the light rack. I look at her again and shake my head.

“Oh, yes.” She says simply, “The sign up sheet is at the bar.”

“No.” I say angrily, “I wasn’t prepared for this and I’m not doing it.” Part of me is furious because I know I’m going to chicken out. The other part of me is furious at her for even trying this. She knew how this was going to go.

“No?” She asks. She’s not questioning what I said. She’s making me question what I said.

“No.” I mumble. I can’t do it.

She stands and smooths her dress, holding her hand out to me. I look at it for a second before taking it. Instead of pulling me toward the bar, she walks me calmly toward the door and takes a left down the hallway. She’s taking me to the bathroom. I slow down. She stops and turns to look at me, but she doesn’t let go.

“I-“ I start to speak, but I don’t have any clue what to say that can help me avoid whatever is about to happen to me.

“Come.” She says, pulling me along. I follow her into the bathroom. It’s not even a single bathroom. There are stalls. She holds the largest stall door open and motions for me to go in. I’m resigned at this moment and I trudge past her. Twenty minutes ago, I was feeling pretty fucking good.

She reaches into her bag and pulls out a hairbrush before hanging the bag on a hook. She approaches me and points the head of the brush at me as she speaks as casually as ever, “You’ve pushed my boundaries with your response, and now, I am going to react. Bend over and put your hands on your knees, Emma.”

This, I can do. I can handle it when she lifts the back of my dress up to my waist. I can handle it when she slides my black satin panties down to the back of my knees, and I can handle it when she wraps her arm around me and winds up. It was bound to happen eventually. In theory, this should be rather easy.

But it’s not. She’s merciless. I hear someone come in. She doesn’t give a shit. She’s not the one trying to endure this, remain as silent as possible, and stay up on these ridiculous heels. But she’s also not the one to care whether I can do those things right now.

She places the brush back into her bag and opens the door before I have even pulled my panties up. She stands there and fixes her dress, looking at me via the mirror as I attempt to piece myself back together, dabbing at my streaked eyeliner. She turns to me.

“So, on the way back to our table, perhaps you should think about how you will react to me pushing your boundaries.”

She holds out her hand again. I take it. As we walk back, she stops me by the bar and I write my name on the open mic sign up with a deep breath. She smiles at me and wraps her arms around my waist. It’s for the best really. She’s only pushing me to be better.


End file.
